


Full Circle

by QueenOfNewOrleans22



Category: Dark City (1998)
Genre: Developing Friendships, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Late Night Conversations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:55:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24971908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22
Summary: Three months after the strangers are defeated, John visits Daniel.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	Full Circle

So much has changed and yet, in some ways, it's all the same. 

There is a sun, and it's just as bright and just as beautiful as Daniel imagined it to be. The city is thriving, a bright future ahead, with plants beginning to bloom. The people are a little confused because, in some ways, they sense that something is off but can't quite put their finger on _what._ They don't realize how vastly their lives have changed, how different the city is, and they go to Daniel for help in solving their issues, wondering why they felt this way, and he tries to help despite the same feeling nestling itself close to his heart, only he knows why there's such a feeling in the first place, and for the most part the people leave feeling a little better with the reassurance that they weren't going crazy, but Daniel can't help but think that such a thing pales in comparison to how big of a part he played in the destruction and chaos of their lives. 

Daniel feels guilty. Rightfully so, considering what had happened just a few months ago. Their lives had been ruined, their own personalities and personas mixed up between person to person, and it hadn't been by choice, no, but Daniel could've _fought._ He could've done more to fight back against Them and defend the inhabitants of this city, who'd done nothing but suffered at the cruel hands of these creatures. He'd ruined lives, lives that the people weren't even aware they had. 

And even now, with the sun having long set low beyond the horzion, Daniel feels the steady guilt and the overwhelming knowledge of what he'd done because of his own cowardice. The tea is still hot and it burns his tongue, but Daniel can't bring himself to care. Pain is a familiar feeling in the grand scheme of life, and Daniel finds that no matter how frightening that pain is, it's monotonous and helps ground him. 

Daniel finds himself craving human interaction. It's awkward to talk with anybody except his clients, and the slightest brush of fingers against his skin makes him flinch, but after years and years of only being touched with cruelty, Daniel thrives for the gentleness of it, no matter how brief and no matter the sudden fright that skyrockets over the unexpected feeling of skin against skin. The only real interaction he has, besides his clients and the brisk talk between himself and, say, the grocers, was with the rats. 

They cannot survive without him and, in some twisted way, Daniel thinks that he cannot survive without them either. And so he builds them a cage and treats them like normal pets, but they are just animals and cannot talk, nor do they understand what Daniel says and wants them to understand. Clever as they are, they cannot replace the want for humans, no matter how much Daniel knows he does not deserve it. 

Daniel does not deserve happiness. He does not deserve love. He knows this, and yet wants it with a horrible urge, deep within his chest. 

Worst of all, Daniel craves for human interaction, not with the civilians of this formerly dark city, but with John. Mr. Murdoch. Powerful and kind and living on Shell Beach with the woman he loves and whom loves him, just as Daniel intended for it to be. Except Daniel wants to see John, and wants to see him smile at Daniel with a kindness that is unfamiliar and maybe a little frightening. 

Daniel has not seen John in two months, since the strangers were first defeated, and that must be good, because that must mean that John is happy. Daniel is glad, if only John was happy. 

The rats were squeaking, and Daniel looks at them, pushing up his glasses as he watched the three little creatures roam around and played on their wheel. They were happy, as much as animals could be, and Daniel was keen to watch them as they spent the rest of their lives, away from the experimentation that they'd been made to do. 

Sometimes, Daniel can relate to the animals in a backwards sort of way. 

The animals were trapped, but they felt free. Daniel was free, but he felt trapped. Smiling softly, Daniel stood and made his way over, despite the steady ache in his leg. It's been worse lately, probably because of the cold that's beginning to creep in. John has been having fun with his new abilities, that's for sure.

"How are you, _miene liebes?"_ Daniel reaches a finger through the slots of the cage, gently stroking their soft fur. He feels a rush of affection for them, these rats that have always been there as far as his memories allow him to remember. 

A knock on the door interrupts the moment, and Daniel looks up, startled, knowing full and well that nobody ever visited him and not wanting to think about it, but imagining that when he opened the door, there would be Mr. Hand, alive and with that quiet look of satisfaction whenever Daniel got startled or hurt. It wasn't a possibility, but it's still there, a lingering fear, no matter how ridiculous it may be. But despite that fear, Daniel make this way over to the door, wondering who it may be, unsure what he'd do if Mr. Hand was really behind the thin wood, and is frightened, intrigued and confused when he peers through the peephole and sees John Murdoch, the man who'd done much more than create the sun, standing there. 

Daniel purses his lips thinly, horribly aware that he's been wanting to see John again but now that he's there, is unsure of what to do, and wondering why John would feel the need to visit. Daniel was just a figure in the dark, sordid of this demented city, and didn't warrant a second thought. But yet, there was John, looking around and waiting patiently for Daniel to answer his knock. 

After a moment to gather his thoughts and the question of ' _Why is John Murdoch at my door?',_ Daniel readied himself and undid the latches, his anxiety pulsating as he opened it the door. "Hello, Mr. Murdoch. What a-pleasant surprise." Daniel said, unsure of how to go about John being right there with unknown intentions. He should be at his house, on Shell beach, with his wife. Not here. Not with Daniel and his rats. 

John looked like he tried to smile, except it seemed more like a painful wince than anything pleasant. "Hi. Did I wake you up?" Ever so considerate, John raises his eyebrows and looks at Daniel with a look that's vastly different from the ones given previously, the ones of anger and panic. 

Daniel shakes his head. The reason he was awake had nothing to do with John. "Not at-all. Is there -something you-need?" Daniel isn't sure what he wants the answer to be. All he really, truly knows is that this is the first time he's seen John in months and the other man looks exhausted, worn. There's dark shadows under his eyes and Daniel can only wonder what had happened. "No. I just... Anna and I had an argument and we needed some space. You were the first person I thought of when I realized that there was nowhere else to go." John laughs a little, though there's no humor to be found. 

It's a reasonable enough response, yet Daniel can't help but sense that John is keeping something in secret. That wasn't all that had happened, but it wasn't Daniel's place to point it out. John needs a place to stay, and Daniel would provide that. "Come on-in." Daniel says and steps aside, allowing John to walk inside the small, comfy apartment, furnished in calm, dark colors and sparsely decorated because Daniel hadn't had much time to decorate before and had never been given much of a change to make it, truly, into a home. 

John thanks him and steps inside, observing the apartment with his observant gaze and nodding a little. "You did a good job with decorating." He says, and Daniel dips his head. "Thank you. Would you-like some-tea?" He motions to the small kitchen and dining room, where his own cooling cup of tea is sitting, abandoned. 

"No, thank you. I don't want you going through all that trouble." John says, and Daniel doesn't push it. Despite his best attempts not to, the analyst in Daniel's persist in their observations, ranging from the blatant exhaustion to the twitching of John's fingers, suggesting some anxiety or restlessness. Daniel feels a rush of sadness, thinking about how John had went through so much and didn't deserve to have to deal with whatever was bothering him. "Lets sit down-then if you'd -like to." Daniel waits until John moves toward the table and sits down, the chair grating against the wood unpleasantly when John pulls it out from under the table. 

Daniel doesn't know what to say, and just sips his tea while John played with his hands, the silence a little forced as they avoided eye contact. Maybe it was because he last time they saw each other, it hadn't been under pleasant circumstances. Or perhaps Daniel was worse at social interaction than he'd previously thought. It was fitting, after all. "Would you like-to talk- about anything, Mr.-Murdoch?" 

John startled a little bit, looking up before his face softened. "John, please." He said, and then he looked away, seeming to be engaged in an internal battle with himself while Daniel watched, unsure if his help was needed or not. "I was just, uh, wondering if it wouldn't be too imposing if I were to spend the night, here. It's just that my memory of hotels isn't too pleasant." He smiled, and Daniel forced himself to mimic the expression, though his smile was nowhere near as beautiful as John's was. "Of course-not, John. I owe you after -all, it's the-least I can-do." The very least. John had saved Daniel, and also saved the rest of the city. If needed, Daniel would've done anything for this kind man who had killed the very creatures that had made Daniel so terrified, who had scarred his face and body and soul, who'd doomed him with a bad heart and bad lungs and a limp. 

Daniel shook his head, hating the self pity that crawled up every so often to rear its ugly head. He deserved this; the pain, the fear, the disgust. It was his penance. "I have a spare-room for-you." Daniel begins to stand, but John holds up his hand, eyes wide. "Can we just sit here for a little bit, Doctor? I can't sleep. Not yet." 

_Doctor._ The name sends a shiver up Daniel's spine. "Please, call-me, Daniel. Or Schreber." 

Nobody has called Daniel by his first name since, well, never, if his memories were to be believed, and so it's an odd change when John smiles and says, "Daniel." Like it's the most natural thing in this twisted world. 

And so they sit. Daniel drinks the rest of his tea and finds himself oddly bothered by this. John rubs one of his hand over his face and sighs. The rats are squeaking and making a clatter. It's 2:03, and Daniel should feel tired, and he does, but he can't bring himself to want to sleep. The nightmare is still there, dancing on the edges of his mind, and Daniel doesn't want to see those images again, relive the pain. John opens his mouth, closes it, and then opens it again, like he's trying to figure out what to say. "I'm sorry, Daniel. I shouldn't have treated you like I did, you didn't deserve to be lashed out at and hurt." 

Daniel looks at him, eyebrows furrowed, the concept of being apologized to an unfamiliar one and the idea of being apologized to when nothing wrong had been done an even odder happening. "Do not be, John. I-hardly gave -you a reason-to trust me." Daniel took a minute to catch his breath. "If anything, I should -be the-one apologizing - to you. " 

John scoffs. "For what? Trying to help me? Trying to get me to stop being such an ass?" 

Daniel shakes his head. "For everything else." He doesn't say it, but John knows what Daniel is talking about. 

_The implants. Memories forgotten. Lives altered._

Suddenly, John seems to awaken from the tired state he'd been in, sitting up straighter in his chair at the very words. "They forced you, Daniel. You wouldn't have done it if you'd been given the choice, right?" John says, and Daniel nods. "You fought as hard as you could, and fought even after that. Everything that could've been done had happened and you shouldn't be feeling sorry about it, not in the slightest. It's not your fault." John says it like he truly believes it, and he reaches out, resting his hand stop of Daniel's. 

Without meaning to, Daniel flinches and nearly shrinks back in his chair. Something (Hurt? Anger?) flashes across John's face and he pulls his hand back. 

Daniel cursed himself. "I'm sorry." He says softly. 

John shakes his head again. "Stop saying that. It's not your fault, Daniel. There's no reason to be sorry. It's just your reflexes." 

Yes, and the ever present fear. 

Daniel gathers his courage, which he, much as he loathed to admit it, lacked in spades. "I think-that-it would be best- if you were to sleep." 

He stands, using the table to push himself up. "And-maybe tomorrow, we-could go to-a nice café I know - and talk further." 

John watched him carefully for a moment, still as a frozen statue, and then the smile came back. "I'd like that very much." 


End file.
